


Belonging

by MoonRiver



Series: Amelia [16]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Babies, Babysitting, Family, M/M, Parentlock, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson are Parents, but standalone, part of a series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-16 01:21:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7246495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonRiver/pseuds/MoonRiver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been two years since Sherlock moved in to help John raise his daughter after Mary died during childbirth, and even though their relationship is going strong he's still not quite sure where he belongs in the Watson family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Belonging

**Author's Note:**

> This is apart of my Amelia series, but it's standalone and you can read it without having read the series. I do hope though that after you read this you'll want to go back and read the rest of the series!

“Amelia, no!” Sherlock called after the two year old, who had broken free from his grasp and was now running wild in the playground.

He let out a groan as he mustered up the energy to chase after her, grabbing her just in time before she could run in front of the swings.

“I know running into danger is in your blood, but you really must be more careful,” he sighed as he took her by the hand and led her back to the baby play area. “How about we try this baby slide?”

John’s daughter glared up at him with her brown eyes, and though she couldn’t speak he knew what was going through her mind: _no, boring!_ She wanted to be able to run free, without being confined to the grip of his hand. But the park was rather crowded today, and while John was keeping a close eye on them from their table and Sherlock was right beside the toddler he still didn’t trust that Amelia could run around without getting into trouble.

Picking her up, he sat her at the top of the small slide. Out of the corner of his eye he saw John take out his mobile for a photo, and he rolled his eyes. Instead of sliding, Amelia just stood up and tried to run down the slide, and before he could catch her she tripped and smacked her head on the metal. Her screams of pain rang through the air, and he felt sick inside as her face reddened and a noticeable bump formed immediately. Sherlock’s cheeks grew hot as he felt the judging eyes of all the parents on him.

“It’s alright, love,” he whispered to her as he picked her up.

Still she screamed and screamed, bashing her fists against his shoulder as she did. She did have a rather large knot on her head, her face was now blood red from crying, and John looked utterly horrified as he raced over to them.

“She’s fine,” Sherlock insisted, although he had no actual medical proof that she was okay. What if she got a concussion? What if she had blackened an eye or busted her lip?

“You’ve got to be more careful,” John scolded. He had brought their lunch bag with him, and Sherlock realised why as he took out an ice pack and placed it on his daughter’s forehead. “She’s still little, Sherlock. She’s still learning her balance.”

If it wasn’t for Amelia sobbing in his arms as the cold ice was added to the already throbbing wound and if it wasn’t for the crowd of people still judging them with their eyes, Sherlock would have yelled at him for that. After all, Amelia had fallen plenty of times at home! She had started climbing over everything- and trying to jump off things. She tripped, she fell, she pulled things down over her. For a few moments she would sob like it was the end of the world…and then she would simply run off and keep playing like it was nothing. Amelia would be fine: he knew that, John knew that, and once they got home and put on her favourite show for her even Amelia would know that.

“I’m sorry,” Sherlock mumbled instead, feeling defeated. “You know I wouldn’t ever mean to hurt her.”

“I know,” John sighed. “Here.”

He took his daughter into his arms and kissed her forehead. Being with her dad seemed instantly comforting to her, and her crying finally began to let up a little.

“I think you’ll be fine, sweetheart,” John promised his daughter as he gently kept applying ice. “I bet you really scared yourself, yeah?”

Amelia only buried her head in his shoulders, and Sherlock felt more useless than ever. While he knew Amelia loved being with him and playing with him, he had to admit he was a bit jealous of how much more she leaned on her father when she was upset or ill. He knew that was selfish. He knew it wasn’t fair- after all, she wasn’t actually his child- but they had just grown so close as a family. He and John were an official couple now, and he worried that Amelia might never grow to love and trust him as a father-figure.

Because the truth was, he didn’t just want to be the fun-loving “uncle”. He loved being a part of this family. But during moments like these he was shaken with the awful realisation that she just wasn’t his, and he had no business acting like he was anything more than a family friend.

“We should go,” John murmured. His eyes were dancing around the crowd of people, who were just now beginning to resume playing with their children.

“I’m sorry,” Sherlock pleaded. “Really, John. I should have been more careful.”

His partner didn’t respond as he led them to the carpark and unlocked his car.

“Can you put the pram in the trunk?” John asked. “I’ll get Amelia. You’ll need to sit back here with her while I drive."

Amelia didn’t exactly seem too excited to be restrained to her car seat and going home after only twenty minutes at the park. Her eyes were filling with tears again, and he could hear her whimpers even from outside the car.

“We’ll play at home,” John promised her as he snapped her in to the car seat.

“I can drive, if you’d like,” Sherlock offered. “I think she’d rather you sit with her, for a change.”

Luckily their house was just five minutes away. He listened as John spoke soothingly to his daughter, telling her she would be okay and when they got home they could have some lunch and play with some of her new toys. Amelia seemed to be growing sleepy though, and he caught John stroking her hair and gazing worriedly at her as she drifted off.

He understood why John got so angry when Amelia got hurt like this: he had already lost Mary, and Sherlock knew John could never bear the thought of anything happening to his daughter. Each time she fell, each time she ran away from them or each time her asthma acted up, he knew John saw his daughter’s life flash before his eyes.

And so did Sherlock.

He wanted John to realise that. He wanted John to know that he really did love Amelia and that he wanted to prove that he could be a father-figure to her.

When they got home they quietly trotted up the steps. John sat Amelia on the living room floor and turned on a show with a lot of singing and dancing that she had really grown to love.

“I’ll get her lunch ready, if you wouldn’t mind sitting with her,” John offered. He handed Sherlock the ice pack. “Put that on her for a few more minutes, and we’ll see how the swelling looks. She doesn’t have a concussion, but I still want to keep an eye on her.”

“Of course,” Sherlock nodded.

He sat on the floor and scooped Amelia onto his lap, but as soon as the ice was back on her forehead she began to cry again. He couldn’t help but to let out a frustrated groan as he struggled to get her to stay still.

“Here,” John sighed above him, picking up his daughter once more. “Actually this will be easier.”

As always, John had the cleverer idea as he carried Amelia over to her highchair. It didn’t exactly make her happy to be stuck in a chair again- Sherlock had though at least the freedom of being on the floor and not stuck would comfort her a little- but it was easier to apply the ice. He watched as John grimaced as Amelia let out a particularly loud wail, and he felt guilty to remember his partner hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before. He had been up with Amelia, who had refused to settle down, and now here he was having to take care of her because Sherlock was incapable of comforting her.

He tried singing along with the kids songs on the show, but Amelia hardly gave the telly any attention. John began to spoon out some baby vegetables for her, but somehow Sherlock had the feeling Amelia wouldn’t feel like eating.

“Maybe we should wait to feed her,” he suggested. “If she’s already this upset-"

“She hasn’t eaten since earlier this morning,” John argued. “I don’t want to throw her off her schedule. She’s already had a rough night. Here, let me.”

Before he could protest John had taken a seat in front of his daughter and removed Sherlock’s hand with the ice pack from her forehead. Leaning forward, he blew kisses into Amelia’s cheek like she loved and tickled her belly.

 Within moments, Amelia seemed totally okay again. She even willingly scooped the fruit John had placed on her tray into her mouth.

“Yeah, you’re okay,” John grinned, running his hand over his daughter’s hair.

Feeling utterly useless, Sherlock stood up, deciding the two would be alright without him.

“If it’s okay, I think I’m going to have a shower,” he announced.

“Yeah, sure,” John replied absentmindedly.

Amelia actually let out a laugh as he walked away, and he had to close his eyes and stop himself from getting too frustrated.

This was ridiculous. Why was he being so emotional about this? Amelia was two- she couldn’t help how she felt about him!  She couldn’t even say his name. It wasn’t like she meant to get upset about things or make him feel useless. She was just trying to get by every day, just like they were.

He didn’t really need to shower, but the steam felt soothing as he let the warm water run over him. Showering had become one of the few moments he had to himself lately, and over the past couple of years he had learned to not take alone time for granted. When he was alone he felt like a whole different person, and in these quiet moments it was surreal to think that this was his life now. Sometimes…sometimes he couldn’t help but to ask himself what the hell he thought he was doing. Sure, it was the right thing to do to offer John help when Mary past away. That’s what friends did. He couldn’t have imagined not moving in and helping to take care of the baby. But now John was doing pretty well on his own as a single dad, and Sherlock almost felt like he was in the way sometimes. Yes, their relationship was growing strong, but he knew John’s priority was being a father. Where exactly did John envision him in the Watson family?

Sherlock was surprised to find John standing in their bedroom when he stepped out of the shower, hair still damp and towel wrapped around his waist. His lover’s pupils dilated immediately, and he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck as he always did when he became flustered.

“Erm…I think we need to talk,” John announced. “Amelia’s in her playpen. I think she’s getting tired, so hopefully she’ll nap soon.”

“It’s that time of day,” Sherlock commented, glancing at the clock.

John only nodded, and a long awkward moment of silence passed between them.

“I’m sorry!” John finally blurted out. “I overreacted at the park. I know you’d never mean to hurt Amelia.”

While he was relieved to hear John admit he had freaked out, at the same time he didn’t feel like he was owed an apology. Amelia was hurt under his watch, and now he was feeling like John had every right to be angry.

“It’s fine,” Sherlock said. “You had every right to be mad. Your daughter was hurt.”

“Amelia gets hurt,” John replied. “She’s a toddler, that’s pretty much her life right now- getting into trouble and falling down. It just scares me, you know? I never get used to hearing her cry like that.”

“I know,” he promised, placing his hands on John’s shoulders. “You have nothing to feel sorry about.”

He placed a quick kiss to John’s cheek, but his partner didn’t look convinced when he took a step back.

“What’s wrong?” John demanded. Sherlock hesitated, thinking it would be selfish of him to bring up what was bothering him, but John insisted: “Sherlock, I know when something’s bothering you. Come on.”

Taking Sherlock’s hand, he led them to the bed and they both lay down in it. John let out a sigh of relief as he got off his feet and settled into the comfort of his mattress. All was quiet from the living room- a sign that Amelia must have falling asleep.

“I feel like I should be connecting with Amelia better,” Sherlock finally confessed; it was the best way he could think to explain it. “You shouldn’t have to be the one that has to comfort her all the time.”

“I’m her dad,” John pointed out, swirling a finger over the skin of Sherlock’s chest. “It’s just nature. She doesn’t mean anything by it.”

“I know,” Sherlock lied. In his opinion he still didn’t get how Amelia understood that John was her dad and Sherlock was just a friend. It wasn’t like with mothers, where you carry a child in the womb and give birth to her and have that connection from the start. Technically, John had really known and cared for Amelia just as long as Sherlock had. So why didn’t she trust him just as much? “But I should be able to put her to bed. I should be able to comfort her when she gets hurt. I feel like she thinks I’m just ‘fun loving Sherlock’ but she doesn’t take me seriously as an actual parental figure…if it’s okay to use that term.”

“It’s perfectly okay!” John said. His eyes let up, and a weight lifted off Sherlock’s shoulders. The topic of what his role was with Amelia had definitely been the elephant in the room lately, and to hear that John not only wanted him to be a parental figure to Amelia not only relieved him but pleased him. “Sherlock, I want you to be a part of Amelia’s life. I can’t do this parenting thing on my own…she needs someone else who can be there for her. She needs someone she can turn to when she’s afraid to come to me.”

“Like good cop, bad cop?”

“Come on, you know when she’s older the first thing she’s going to do when I tell her ‘no’ is go to you,” he teased. “Right now she’s just not quite sure who you are yet, but I know she loves you. She falls asleep in your arms on the sofa and loves to dance with you. When I get her up in the morning the first thing she does is run back to our bedroom door like she’s wondering where you are.”

This time Sherlock’s eyes lit up.

“Really?” He asked. He could just imagine little Amelia staring longingly at their door, wanting someone else to play with.

“Yes, really,” John said, planting a kiss to his forehead. “She loves you, and so do I and both of us want you to be a part of this family.”

Rolling over, John cuddled up against him and took his hands in his own. “I could have never gotten this far on my own.”

They kissed, and Sherlock’s world felt much lighter than before. He was beginning to feel like maybe he did really have a place here, with the Watsons, and he wasn’t just a temporary guest.

At that moment Amelia’s cries sounded from the living room. John’s eyes fell to a close, a sure sign that he was exhausted and just didn’t have the energy.

“I’ll get her,” Sherlock offered, placing a final kiss to John’s lips.

“You sure?” John asked, though he neither opened his eyes nor moved to protest him.

With a chuckle Sherlock got out of bed and threw on some track pants. Sure enough Amelia was standing up in the play pen with her arms stretched out, desperate for someone to pick her up and hold her.

“Come here love,” Sherlock said soothingly as he took her into his arms. “Let’s get you into your room.”

He turned on her CD of lullabies, which always had its way of calming her down quickly, and turned out the lights. Settling into the rocker beside her cot, Sherlock held Amelia close and rubbed her back as he let her cry herself out.

“It’s alright, Amelia,” he promised. “I know your head probably still hurts. I’ve had my fair share of bumps on the head. So has your dad. It’ll feel better soon.”

Sherlock held her and continued to rub her back as he hummed along to the music. Eventually she quieted down and instead of crying began to reach up to his face and grab his nose.

“I thought you were sleepy,” he protested.

Amelia only giggled.

He sighed.

“You know it’s your nap time,” he told her, “and you know you’re going to be very cranky later if you don’t take one.”

What would he give right now for a nap? And that was something he would have _never_ said two years ago.  But now, when his nights had been spent taking turns with John with feeding her or changing her, and his days were non-stop with watching her, his body yearned for days when he could get more than five hours of sleep.

“I wish I could take a nap,” he sighed.

Reaching up, she grabbed a hold of one of his curls _hard_ and he winced but stopped himself from scolding her. Since she loved to play with his hair (aka grab hold of it with her baby death hold and pull as hard as she could) he had tried his best to keep it cut short, but she still managed to torture him.

“Amelia,” he groaned, prying her hands away.

She only grinned.

“Settle down now,” he told her. She only reached up again, grabbing another curl, like she thought he thought it was funny. “Amelia!”

He pushed back and held her arms down, but she still just giggled.

“’lock!” She cried out.

He froze.

It was the closest she had come to saying his name.

She had mastered a handful of simple words, but there seem to be no rhyme or reason as to when she did or didn't try to talk. He wasn’t even aware she had been listening when he had tried to teach her his name. He knew it was a rather complicated one and she was bound to have some kind of nickname for him, but he could have never imagined her little words sounding so _perfect_.

“’lock!” She cried again, grabbing at his nose as though saying _I mean you!_

“Yes,” Sherlock replied with a grin. His eyes were watering, but he didn’t care. “Lock. Sherlock.”

“Lock,” Amelia said again, as though proving to herself that she was saying it right.

Suddenly she yawned, and it didn’t take long before she curled against his chest and let her eyes flutter to a close.

“Lock,” he repeated back quietly. “That’s me. And I love you. You can trust me, yeah? I’ll always be here for you, Amelia.”

But she was already asleep, just like that after all that trouble. He stayed with her for another twenty minutes to make sure she was really out before putting her in her cot.

“Sleep well,” he whispered, “but I’ll be here if you need someone.”

He stepped quietly out of the room and pulled the door closed. As soon as he was alone his lips morphed into a smile, and he leaped into the air and pumped his fists in celebration.

She said his name!

Sherlock hurried back to his and John’s room to brag, but instead he found his lover passed out on the bed, fast to sleep. He smiled again, knowing his partner deserved nothing more than a long, peaceful, nap so he sneaked back into the living room to work on case files.

But he found himself unable to concentrate. He kept smiling to himself, thinking of that simple word coming out of Amelia’s giggling mouth. Except it wasn’t simple at all: it meant that she knew who he was. She had observed him, learned his name, and had worked to be able to say it.

And that…that meant everything.

Maybe Amelia thought he still belonged here after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this new installment of the Amelia series! I'd love to know what you thought about it!


End file.
